


From Sunrise to Sunset

by thesadchicken



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: But all ends well (more or less), M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Post-The Search for Spock, Pre-The Voyage Home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 18:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8588980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesadchicken/pseuds/thesadchicken
Summary: After Spock's katra is reunited with his body in fal-tor-pan, Jim has to learn how to deal with life, no matter how hard it has become. This is a story about grief, hope, and finding strength in the ones we love.Written for the 2016 Old Married Spirk Challenge.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my [ wonderful sister ](http://funkylittlesister.tumblr.com/) for all her help with the idea and plot ~ you sure are one funky little sister! Also, a huge "thank you" to [ Akaiii ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaiii/pseuds/Akaiii) for beta-reading this story ~ you're the best!
> 
> This story is set directly after 'The Search For Spock' and before 'The Voyage Home'.

_Sunrise on Vulcan always looks like the desert is catching fire_ , Jim Kirk thought. He squinted down at the scenery. Yes, it looked like Mount Seleya was floating in a pool of molten lava. Like the universe had just ended.

Watching the sun rise over Vulcan usually filled Jim with wanderlust – an insatiable desire to explore, to discover, to learn; it made him feel young again. But today as he stood there, limbs aching and head throbbing, Jim felt unbelievably old. _Worn-out_ , he told Uhura when she asked him how he felt. He let her lead him down the steps, her tiny hand gently tugging at his elbow, urging him to keep walking. He tore his gaze away from the horizon and stared at the back of her head. Her curls bounced over her shoulders. “A shuttle should be waiting for us,” she said, turning towards him. “Ambassador Sarek insisted –”

“Yes,” Jim interrupted. Her voice was too loud in the stillness of dawn. He wanted silence. He wanted to close his eyes and fall into the silence – no more words, no more sounds, he wanted to shut off all the voices flowing into his mind. Go to sleep. Wake up when his world would stop collapsing.

They reached the shuttle. It was ridiculously large, Federation issue and branded with the Vulcan Embassy’s logo. Everyone was there: Sulu, who was nodding off against the bulkhead; Chekov, nursing an open wound on his upper arm; Scotty, deep in thought and stroking his mustache; and McCoy, whispering back and forth at Sarek. Both of them stopped talking the moment Jim and Uhura stepped into the shuttle.

Spock’s absence felt like a punch to the stomach, but Jim ignored it. There was no reason to worry. After all, Spock’s people were taking care of him. They knew what he needed most. _But this crew used to be Spock’s people_. The thought made Jim’s insides lurch.

It was still early morning when the shuttle flew over ShiKahr and landed in front of Ambassador’s Sarek residence. Lady Amanda was standing at the door, both hands clasped over her chest. “Spock is inside. He’s resting,” she said as they approached. Her eyes never left Sarek’s, and Jim read the desperation in them, the raw emotion most Vulcans would’ve deemed disgraceful. Sarek, however, extended a pair of fingers towards his wife and nodded understandingly as she led everyone inside.

They were invited to sit at a large glass table where Lady Amanda had already set the adequate number of spoons and mugs. Plomeek soup was steaming in small white bowls. As they sat down, Lady Amanda poured each one of them Earth coffee. Jim took a careful sip. _Plomeek soup and coffee_ , he thought. _Traditional Vulcan and Earth morning meals_.

Sarek took his leave soon enough, claiming he needed time to meditate. Only a few minutes later, McCoy stood up and asked if he could be shown to his room. “It’s a wonder I can still stand on my own two feet,” he mumbled, looking truly bewildered at his ability to function after such a trying night.

One by one, Jim’s loyal crew disappeared into their respective rooms. It seemed Sarek and Amanda had enough space for everyone and that they were willing to offer refuge for as long as necessary. This didn’t surprise Jim: he knew how spacious the Ambassador’s house was, and he knew how accommodating Lady Amanda always strived to be.

Uhura was the last to leave. As she got up she shot Jim a worried look, but he waved it away with a half-hearted smile. “I’ll be fine,” he mouthed, gripping his coffee mug. Uhura nodded uncertainly and left, leaving Jim alone with Lady Amanda in the dimly lit kitchen.

Light filtered through the curtainless window, warm and yellow, spilling in pools on the stone floor. Jim stared down vacantly, clasping his mug so hard his knuckles turned white. Lady Amanda’s fragile fingers brushed Jim’s forearm. He looked up at her.

“You must be tired,” she whispered, her lips twitching upwards sadly. Spock looked nothing like his mother, and yet Jim was certain he’d seen that same timid half-smile on his husband’s lips. His eyes stung; from the sleepless night or from holding back tears, he didn’t know – and was too tired to care. “I’m alright,” he shrugged half-heartedly, not buying the lie himself.

Amanda’s hand retreated back to her own mug and she took a small sip. “When they told me, I – I fell to the ground,” she suddenly said, and Jim instantly knew what she was talking about, “Like my legs couldn’t carry me anymore… I felt betrayed, as if the world had broken its promise to me. He was never supposed to go first: he’s _my_ _son_.”

The room was silent for a few moments. Then Lady Amanda sighed, “It’s never fair, Jim.”

A bird screeched just outside the window and flew away with a rustling of its wings. “No, never,” Jim agreed, staring down at his now-cold coffee. “But I have no regrets,” he added.

“I can’t thank you enough for bringing him back to me,” Amanda’s voice was filled with tears, “I wish I could do the same for you.”

“I had to…” Jim started, but there was nothing more to say. _I had to_.

~

Jim opened his eyes just a crack. Light flooded his sight and he squinted as he pushed himself off the table. He had fallen asleep, cheek pressed against the glass, one arm extended in front of him while the other rested in his lap. He felt a little foolish, dozing off in Sarek and Amanda’s house. He looked around. The kitchen was empty; mugs, bowls and spoons were clean and neatly arranged in their glass cupboards; bright Vulcan sunlight was trickling through the window. Amanda had most likely gone to bed.

The silence was blissful. Jim closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in it, but images of past ordeals haunted him. Red burning skies, rocks falling from above, a cold dead body that looked so much like Jim’s, blond curls stained with blood, so much blood, everywhere there was blood, and Spock’s unfamiliar gaze, _your name is Jim_ , burning skies, red burning skies and _my God, what have I done_.

Jim shook his head and stood up. At least his slumber had been mercifully dreamless. He decided to go back to sleep.

When he reached his room – _their_ room, his and Spock’s – he froze. Was Spock in there? Was he resting in their shared bed, like he’d done thousands of times before when they’d come to visit Sarek and Amanda?

Jim pushed the door button and it swooshed open, revealing an empty bed. No one had slept in it. The curtains were drawn. The room smelled of loneliness.

Jim leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. He didn’t dare reach for his and Spock’s bond. Usually, it felt like a warm golden thread in the back of his mind, or a flowing river deep in his consciousness. Now it felt ice-cold; frozen in a state of emotionlessness. He couldn’t bear to touch it. He wished he didn’t even have to think about it.

McCoy’s room was on the ground level. Jim snuck inside without a sound and slipped into bed fully dressed. Next to him, Bones was lightly snoring. Jim closed his eyes and fell asleep to the sound of his friend’s even breathing.

~

When he woke up, Jim was disoriented. At first he thought he was aboard the _Enterprise_ ; he even thought he could hear its engines humming, coaxing him back to sleep. He tossed and turned for a few drowsy moments before falling back into the arms of Morpheus.

He dreamt of Iowa. He dreamt of childhood memories, of him and Sam running through fields, of the dying day and the comfort of Earth’s familiar constellations.

Afternoon light seeped through the window and onto Jim’s tired face, snatching him out of his dreams. He blinked his eyes open and was met with the sight of Spock, lying in bed next to him, their faces mere inches apart. Jim knew he should’ve been startled, surprised or at least curious, but all he felt was a deep wave of affection crashing over him. This was the man he loved, the man he thought he’d lost forever…

Jim remained still, staring at Spock with a calm he hadn’t known he was capable of. Dark Vulcan eyes traveled across his face, studying every wrinkle, every burnt or bruised patch of skin. The proximity was so familiar, and for a moment it felt like the world had finally stopped ending, like the universe was unfolding exactly as it should.

Jim could feel his husband’s cool breath against his cheeks. Spock’s long eyelids fluttered as he raised a single sharp eyebrow. Jim knew that he should’ve been worried, or that he should’ve tried to say something, _anything_ , to get Spock to talk to him. But he lay there in silence, taking in the gentle sunlight reflected on his bondmate’s angular features. He couldn’t bring himself to break the illusion of familiarity. For a moment, maybe he could make the world new again.

Then the unexpected happened. Spock leaned in and kissed Jim.

It was a simple brush of the lips – a cool mouth pressing against his – and yet Jim shuddered. He kept his eyes wide open while Spock’s eyelids slipped over his dark irises. The smallest sigh escaped Jim. The room was filled with sunlight and Spock’s cheeks were turning deep green. Soft and tender and sweet and oh so brief, oh so brief… the kiss ended as abruptly as it had started.

Spock pulled away, pushed himself off the bed, walked out of the room and disappeared.

Jim lay in a pool of yellow sunlight, staring at the ceiling. His husband had kissed him, and it had felt like a miracle. When would the world stop collapsing?

Inexplicably, at that very moment he thought of David. He hadn’t allowed himself to think of David until now. And the thoughts stung.

David, his own flesh and blood: a stranger. And he would remain that way forever. Jim would never get to know him. The fatality of it all had dawned on him the second they left Genesis, and now it just felt absurd. His son, a man he hardly knew, was dead. He mourned both the finding and the loss. Why hadn’t he insisted Carol let him see David before? Why hadn’t he taken the time to look away from the stars and down at Earth, where he’d left a little boy he should’ve wanted to get to know? He should’ve fought harder… he should’ve tried to win the argument… his boy was gone now, and there was no fighting left in Jim.

It was all so absurd. The whole situation, everything that had happened to him in the past few weeks, or months, or years, who knew – how come time seemed to have stopped? Ever since he’d lost Spock…

But he hadn’t lost Spock, had he? Not really, not anymore. His husband was here, alive, and he had kissed him. A miracle, maybe, but if that was what it took for the world to stop ending then Jim would take it.

 _How we deal with life is at least as important as how we deal with death_ , he’d once said. Or was it the other way around? It didn’t really matter now. Spock’s lips had carried a message, and when Jim had tasted them he’d known right away what it was. He had to deal with _life_ ; even though his world was collapsing all over him, even though the sky was crumbling up above.

No more hiding then. No more moping, no more falling asleep in Sarek and Amanda’s kitchen. No more running away from life. He was alive, and so was Spock. The crew – his friends and only family – had sacrificed everything for him. It was Jim’s duty to wake up now, no matter how much it hurt.

Night was quietly falling. Through the window, Jim watched the shadows dancing over ShiKahr. Sunset on Vulcan always looked like a new beginning.

~

“I don't know if you've got the whole picture or not, but he's not exactly working on all thrusters,” McCoy whispered, rather aggressively.

Jim stole a glance at Spock. “It’ll come back to him,” he said, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could.

“Are you sure?” Bones replied.

Jim stared at his friend blankly. Was he sure? Of course not; Spock had _died_ , who could be sure of anything anymore? And yet he had to move on. He had to wake up. And he wasn’t giving up on Spock. Even though every decision he took was now tainted with uncertainty, and even though the fear of never getting his husband back was ever-present, Jim wasn’t going to give up on Spock. Whenever doubt assailed him, he remembered the kiss – Spock’s cold lips against his own – and he knew he was doing the right thing.

Bones nodded slowly. “That’s what I thought.”

**Author's Note:**

> I poured a lot of feels into this. I bet you can even see the tear stains on some of the letters.


End file.
